


Perspective

by MoonNewt66



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Character Study, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29455584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonNewt66/pseuds/MoonNewt66
Summary: Kirk had tried to come to terms with his life after Spock flees to Gol by entering into a new relationship, but his belief in the reason for the Vulcan’s flight is never far from his mind. After Lori leaves, Kirk tries to fill the emptiness in his life in alcohol and North Beach sex clubs where he experiences a surprising revelation.Story takes place just before Star Trek: The Motion Picture.This story was originally published in 1992 in the fanzine, “T’hy’la” # 12.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

The combined actions of the horses with their riders cutting out the spring calves from the large herd, and the resulting constant milling of the cattle, had raised a choking red dust, another irritant added to the warm, humid Georgia afternoon.

One horse and its rider were still, standing off to the side of the action, while the cowboy was trying to remember exactly how he should tie the slip knot at the end of his riata. _Was it right over left, and then? ... No, no, that wasn't it. Blast it!_

Only at the unexpected sharp cry of several voices yelling out " **McCoy!** " did the rider look up, to see a calf charging directly towards him and his mount. Between McCoy's thighs, he could feel his mount's muscles tense, as the quarter horse instinctively reacted to the onrush of the calf. The horse dodged to one side, and then turned to begin chasing the young animal.

As the horse took off galloping, McCoy could faintly hear the shouting of the other cowboys riding behind him, encouraging McCoy to "go get 'em!" Grimly, McCoy hung onto the horse, tightening the pressure of his knees against the horse's sides, and swiftly, sub-consciously, finished tying off the slip knot, looping the tail end of the rope around the saddle horn.

Judging the distance close enough, and tiring of the fast ride, McCoy leaned forward and proceeded to start twirling his lariat with his right hand, increasing the diameter of the noose as the horse closed in on its quarry. Extending his hand in a smooth, flowing motion, _just like shaking someone's hand_ , and then releasing his grip, the lasso's loop sailed out over the calf's head.

What happened next was a great surprise to McCoy. The lariat's noose settled perfectly over the animal's head, encircling the neck. The calf ran the needed steps to reach the end of slack on the rope, the loop tightening. McCoy's horse skidded to a halt, forelegs stiff and braced, to keep the lariat tight and therefore the circle of rope closed around the calf's neck. And McCoy went flying over the head of his horse, to land unceremoniously on his butt, temporarily knocking out his wind.

As he sat, leaning on his right arm, trying to inhale air again, over his own labored respiration, McCoy could hear the wheezing breathing of the calf and horse. As the discomfort lessened, McCoy became aware that the calf was twisting and pulling against the loop about its neck, while the horse moved with calf to keep the rope taut.

Groaning, McCoy climbed up off of the ground, pulling his leg ties out of his back jeans pocket. Limping over to his horse, he caught onto the riata, and pulled himself, hand over hand, to the calf. Placing his right knee against the calf's side, he pushed while twisting the animal's neck and pulled on the tail, effectively knocking the calf off balance, and down onto the hard-packed red earth.

With his knee firmly held on the calf's side, McCoy brought together the front and rear hooves, winding the leg ties quickly around them. Leaning on the calf's flanks, McCoy tried to ignore the animal's thrashing as he gulped in more blessed air, even though it was heat-seared and filled with fine, red dust.

Hearing the sound of yelling and laughing from approaching riders, those that had followed McCoy's hot pursuit, McCoy pushed himself off of the calf and turned to face the oncoming cowboys.

The front cowboy, who was, of course, the Andorian foreman, Billy Blue, dismounted, grinning and shaking his head from side to side. This caused the delicate antennae, poking out of appropriately placed holes in his stetson, to curl and vibrate. Swiftly, the foreman walked over to McCoy.

"Ya'll right? Boy howdie, that was sure some ride!"

McCoy nodded, smiling weakly in response to Billy's broad grin. "I'm ok. Horse…did most of…the work," he managed to gasp out, while wiping sweat off his forehead, thereby smearing the red dust that had adhered to the moisture.

At that, Billy laughed loudly, slapping McCoy across the shoulders. "I hear that partner! Two Leaf and John here can handle this 'lil 'ol calf fer ya now. It's pert near quittin' time, why don't ya head on back to the bunkhouse?"

Again, McCoy nodded in agreement, too tired to object to special treatment by the foreman. The other cowhands had dismounted, freed the calf from the lariat, and were already in the process of vaccinating the animal.

McCoy walked up to his horse, placing his forehead on the animal's neck, and reached up to scratch behind the horse's right ear. 'Vulcan' turned its head toward McCoy, sniffed and then snorted loudly.

Chuckling, McCoy lifted his head to meet the horse's eyes. "I can't decide who was more surprised that we caught that calf, Billy Blue, you or me!" 'Vulcan' snorted again, and to McCoy's delight, raised its right eyebrow in the fashion that had earned the animal its nickname. Picking up the reins, McCoy grasped the saddle pommel, and slowly raised himself into the saddle. Turning the horse in the direction of the bunkhouse, McCoy tried to keep out the memories of his other Vulcan during the short ride home.

Reaching the main ranch buildings, McCoy dropped off his horse at the barn, congratulating himself again on his foresight to have paid the extra credits for grooming service. It was on days like these, that it would have been more than he could handle. Besides, this was a 'dude' ranch, and he was supposed to be on vacation, until his Fabrini grant was approved.

He had his shirt and pants unfastened, and neck handkerchief unknotted by the time he entered his cabin. With economy of motion, he discarded his clothes in direct line to the bathroom and climbed into the shower.

Setting the controls for cooler water (he had tampered with the sonic controls sufficiently to ensure that they couldn't be used), McCoy bowed his head under the water pressure. Home almost a year from her, and he still couldn't repress the little thrill that ran through his body as it reacted to the water.

_Damnation! Thinking about her again, and Spock! All in one day!_ McCoy leaned his forehead against the shower stall, shivering in reaction to the cold water and painful memories. Would he never stop remembering how it was? The warmth of his tears went unnoticed.

* * * * *

If he were an optimist, he would think this night as half over. If he were a pessimist, he would think this night as half begun. Being Vulcan and Human, logical and emotional, was he then both optimist and pessimist?

What he was, was hungry and thirsty, extremely fatigued and very cold; his body ached from kneeling on the unforgiving carved stonework for days; or this sequence of thought surely would never have been initiated.

The contamination from living among Humans had invaded even to this depth of his inner being. The sixth level of meditation, or the 'crossed lirpas' as his paternal grandfather had taught him, was a level very few Vulcans could achieve, and once arrived at, could not be sustained for any great period of time.

Yet, here he was, deep within the 'crossed lirpas', the night following the third solar day, in the same position of meditation. His heightened telepathic sensitivities had recently encountered stray disquieting murmurs from the Masters attending his entrance trials to Gol.

Could it be as Jim had insisted, that his Human half made him stronger, not weaker? Or, as McCoy had stated, endlessly, over and over, whether queried or not, that the combination of being Human and Vulcan had only made him a pain in the ass to be diagnosed?

The right side of his body, especially his exposed face and neck, throbbed where the wind had abraded his skin with the pulverized volcanic material that comprised the desert sands of Gol, and from the effects of the strong, unshielded solar rays. The thin material of his acolyte's robe would not be thick enough to prevent his remaining body warmth from escaping, and this night showed all the promise of being colder than the previous two nights had been.

"Why do you wish to attain Kolinahr, Spock?" the Masters had asked him when he had supplicated for admission to Gol. He had been back on Vulcan six months, futilely attempting to become a Vulcan among Vulcans, when he realized he had never left her, or Jim, or McCoy. They were always there, and to survive, to go on living, or even to merely exist; they would have to be forgotten, left behind with his other life; erased, eradicated, and expunged from all conscious and unconscious thought and memory.

But not even that could explain his desire, his need to ascend to Kolinahr. Several weeks of meditation on the fourth level, the 'bell banners', should have served this expressed purpose. But having undergone the prescribed meditation ritual, there had been no relief.

"Why do you wish to attain Kolinahr?" the Master had asked him. "Why do you wish to purge yourself of all emotions, consume the embers of pon farr for all time to come, sequester yourself from family and associates forever, abjure your former life; deny now and unceasingly that you were who you once were?"

* * * * *

He lay on his right side, on the far-left edge of the monster bed he had bought for Lori and himself when they signed the one-year marriage contract eleven months ago. Her pillow he held tight to his chest, a surrogate for his absent wife, and though it had been several nights since she had slept on it, her fragrance remained.

That was all that she had left behind. Kirk had returned 'home' from his Star Fleet office the night before to find their apartment empty of her, and of her belongings, of the warmth he had come to cherish. All the rooms were dark and silent, and everywhere he walked, his footsteps echoed.

Not surprisingly, he discovered his heart was in the same condition. Empty, dark and silent. And again, he was unable to mourn this new loss. His desire to continue lying in the bed, never to leave the apartment again, was strong. Not even the pounding of his headache, which could be relieved simply by taking the prescribed medication stored in the bathroom, or the increasing pressure of his full bladder, which also could be simply relieved in the bathroom, could rouse him from the bed. Kirk lay with his eyes open, but not seeing, waiting, knowing that if he waited long enough, Lori would return to him. Like Spock and McCoy would eventually return.

Kirk had read of phantom pain, amputees insisting they could still feel pain emanating from their missing limbs. Was this a case of phantom love? Was he an emotional amputee, still expecting and demanding love from his missing lovers?

Finally, the functioning part of his conscious mind acceded to the insistent calls for help from his body, and rising from the bed, he stumbled into the bathroom, habitually scratching his lower abdomen on the way. Standing over the commode, he held himself while he expended the fluid from his bladder.

Turning to the lavatory basin, he grimaced as he caught sight of his reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror above. His hair, which had recently started to simultaneously darken and recede from his forehead (an expected side effect from the prescription mood elevators, but then he was growing chest hair for the first time in his adult life - an unexpected side effect), was standing on ends in spikes, stiff with the dried sweat issued from his nightmare filled sleep.

His eyes were red and the eyelids were puffy, the latent bags beneath had emerged. The tan he had been so carefully nurturing had virtually disappeared; the pallor of his face shocked him. Kirk decided he had looked better even after his vigorous bouts of Cinderella liberty he had dubiously enjoyed while an ensign, assigned to his first duty ship, trying to squeeze as many activities as he could into a restricted time schedule.

Turning on the cold water, he opened the medicine cabinet and withdrew his headache pills, swallowing them down with water cupped from his hand. Kirk stared at his reflection again, daring it to say something about the condition it had been turned into. There was no answer from the mirror, and as Kirk certainly hadn't thought of a logical answer to his current dilemma during the night, he turned away.

Well, he had other friends he could turn to for answers! And some of them, like friend brandy and friend whiskey, resided in his living room bar. About time he and they sat down and had a nice long chat. And if they didn't have any answers? Hopefully, in time, with their help, he wouldn't be hearing the questions.


	2. Chapter 2

The warm, red coruscation from Spock's fire shrine (beast or demon; idol or god? Even Kirk hadn't asked Spock), was reflected off of the highly burnished, multifaceted bronze coffer, that sat on the center of the headboard above Spock's bunk, a mute, but visual, witness to the activity below it.

Kirk lay half reclined on his left side, his left arm supporting his upper body, as he bent his head down, blowing softly across the saliva he had just deposited onto the surface of Spock's penis. The organ bobbed in response, and Kirk smiled, tightening his grip at the root, then slid his right hand up the shaft, thumb and forefinger caressing each penile ridge beneath the delicate foreskin.

The minute tremors in Spock's lower abdomen were increasing, and Kirk gradually released the pressure of his fingers on the penis. He leaned forward again, licking quickly around Spock's navel, as Spock raised his upper body up off the bed and to the right, in his attempt to escape the torture of Kirk's mouth.

While nipping his way from the navel back down to the groin, Kirk pushed firmly against Spock's shoulder, until Spock was again lying flat on the bed. Kirk then pulled gently on some of the soft pubic hair with his teeth, eliciting yet another groan, louder and longer this time from Spock.

 _Perfect he's almost ready_.

Placing his lips over the celadon head of the penis, Kirk began to rapidly ruck his tongue across the silken surface, while at the same time he had moved his right hand to lightly scratch the acutely sensitive perineal skin between the expanding testicles and the anus. Reflexively, Spock closed his thighs solidly around Kirk's hand and arm.

The warmth on Kirk's hand, trapped between Spock's thighs and the bed, brought a sharp, vivid memory of the time he and Ruth had a quick, passionate tryst while skiing during a winter break at the academy. His hand then, almost numb from the cold, had felt the same when he had placed his fingers inside Ruth's hot, moist vagina to prepare her for the entry of his cock. Tiny pinpricks of fire had danced their way up his arm to ignite his brain, his groin immediately candescent. He was barely inside Ruth before he had started coming in great, gasping bursts of semen, liquid fervency that in turn had triggered Ruth's orgasm, the velvet walls of her vagina tugging against his sensitive cockhead.

The memory proved to be too much for Kirk, as again he felt his orgasm begin, so fierce and powerful his toes curled tight towards the soles of his feet. Moving his left hand quickly, he caught up his ejaculate as he spasmed, his body falling, his right hand still restrained by Spock's thighs.

Kirk landed, half of his body on the bed, half of him covering Spock. Kirk felt Spock move out from under him, and saw the sleek dark head bend down, Spock's breath warm on his skin as Spock's mouth closed around his organ. At first Spock held him with his lips pressed lightly to his shaft, Spock's tongue in shy retreat, his head resting on Kirk's stomach. Soon Kirk could feel the tentative first laps of Spock's raspy tongue, taking away the remaining clinging droplets of sperm, and then the contractions of Spock's throat as he swallowed his acquisition.

Spock reached over, grasping Kirk's left hand, and gently opened the clenched fingers. Spock's eyes were fixed on Kirk's face as he brought Kirk's palm to his mouth, and then proceeded to lick Kirk's palm clean of his emission. Spock's pupils were so dilated, his eyes seemed almost totally black, and Kirk could see his reflection in Spock's eyes.

Then Spock lay back down beside Kirk on the bed, his penis still erect and full, waiting to be released.

 _It has to be now_ , Kirk realized, and reached for the vial of scented oil, still warm, to coat the surface of Spock's penis. Leaning forward, he kissed Spock briefly on the forehead, and then lightly on the corner of the open mouth, continuing to stroke the throbbing penis.

"Now Spock, take me now," Kirk breathed into Spock's mouth, biting the lower full lip to quell any protest from his lover. A few gentle caresses with his mouth on Spock's face, and then Kirk moved away.

As he rolled over onto his knees, Kirk lifted his head up and saw his image being refracted on the surface of the coffer, a hundred miniature ethereal propagations of himself, raising their hips as they spread their thighs, their arms stiff and locked to brace themselves against the penetration of their bodies by Spock's distended penis.

The bed shifted as Spock rose to his knees, placing his hand on the cheeks of Kirk's ass, separating the globes, exposing the puckered entrance to Kirk's body. Spock placed the tip of his right middle finger against the dark portal, pressing firmly against the cooler, quivering flesh of his lover, immediately aware of the resonance within his own body, increasing the pulsations of his penis.

The cabin was now redolent of the scent of Kirk's orgasm, of the pheromones Spock was exuding, and of the incense burning slowly in the fire shrine. Spock dropped his head to sniff at Kirk's anus revealed before him.

The scented oil Kirk had placed within himself earlier, while Spock had silently watched, storing the procedural information of the cleansing process for future use, had been activated by Kirk's body heat. As Spock's tongue softly darted across the folds of the lubricated anus, he detected some of the stronger individual fragrance components of the oil, combined now with the salty sweat from Kirk's body.

Hearing a guttural moan issue from Kirk, Spock raised his head, his eyes also locking onto the mirrored images of Kirk. Kirk's head was raised, face deeply flushed, the eyes tightly closed now, nostrils flaring, and the mouth was open in a round, now soundless "O" of…

Of what? speculated Spock, understandably concerned as he and Kirk had been lovers for only a few days. He knew all of Kirk's body language signals for all the myriad emotions Spock had encountered on a daily basis over the last five years…all, except for the vibrant, intense emotions of lust and passion on a personal one to one, Kirk to Spock, basis.

_Certainly not of pain… Jim is experienced in these matters. Is this the face that pleasure would wear?_

Spock leaned forward, his penis nudging the cleft in Kirk's ass, to caress Kirk's back with his right hand, the muscles contracting involuntarily from the touch of Spock's super-heated skin.

Kissing Kirk at the juncture of shoulder and neck, Spock grasped his own cock with his left hand, guiding the head towards to the aperture. He replaced his lips with his teeth, preparing to bite firmly when he entered Kirk's body with his own, Kirk's mind with his own mind, his right hand just now settling on the side of Kirk's face to facilitate the meld.

''NO!" yelled Kirk, dodging his head away from Spock's hand, falling forward onto the bed, Spock following after him, unbalanced by the unanticipated movement, covering Kirk with his body. In a frenzy of motion, Kirk twisted and turned, fighting his way from out underneath Spock, while Spock, stunned, confused, could only stare at Kirk.

Freed from Spock's body, Kirk leaped off of the bed, and stood at the foot, eyes dark and angry, his face pale now, and his chest expanding and contracting rapidly from his body's anger increasing his respiration rate.

"No, no melds Spock! You promised me, no melds!" shouted Kirk, his voice tight and deep with his anger and profound fear.

Spock glanced away from Kirk, unable to continue meeting Kirk's eyes. Spock looked down at his tightly clenched fists, at these thighs, now liberally sprinkled with his own spilled seed.

"Yes, I had promised no melds," replied Spock. "I lied," his own voice soft and low and controlled, in contrast to the violence of Kirk's.

Kirk's face flushed again, a deep dark red, and then he stepped towards the bed. Choking back a reply, he turned, and fled the sleeping area, running to the comparative safety of the outer room.


	3. Chapter 3

The sleeper lay face down on the reclining chair in front of the apartment fireplace. The body had recovered enough from the disastrous effects of the ingested alcohol to make the pain from the position it was in vaguely known to the sleeper's brain. The sleeper had shifted his left leg to be bent at the knee, and brought forward towards his chest, to support the back, and had placed the right hand under his face to ease the pressure on his neck. His left hand lay on the floor, next to the bottle it had been holding, when the voluntary portion of its master's mind had finally shut down, letting the hand release its grip on the bottle.

The sleeper's brain was in REM state. The dream, in actuality a nightmare tinged with some recent unpleasant memories of the sleeper, had cycled through three times, with only minute variations, and was now finishing its fourth replay. The sleeper's body, becoming stressed, broke out into a cold sweat, small muscle tremors erupting in the calves of both legs, heart and respiration rates increasing. Soon the sleeper would awaken.

The last scenes of the dream were enacted, the terror the dream Kirk had experienced was transferred to the sleeping Kirk, and in acknowledgment he jerked his left leg down and out to the side, as he rolled over onto his back. His eyes fluttered open, as his left hand brushed across his nude chest, disturbing the light film of moisture covering him. In a few seconds, Kirk became aware of his body's distress, the rapid heartbeat, stuffiness of the head, a dull pain in the lower back; a sharper, increasing pain in the calf of the right leg as the muscles spasmed, the rolling sensation of nausea, and the fading echo of terror the nightmare had produced.

Rising up slowly, Kirk massaged the calf of his right leg to soothe the cramp, as he rested his throbbing head on his left knee. To ease the pounding of his heart and the churning in his stomach, he breathed in slowly and deeply through his open mouth, to give his body more oxygen. He attempted to focus on the images of the nightmare, trying to remember what it was that had created such an extreme response, but could only determine that the nightmare had been about Spock.

Kirk sighed, rolling his shoulders to break their stiffness. The stable relationship he had with Spock; based on friendship, mutual respect, an unspoken affection had mutated rapidly after the incidents on that last mission, Spock had been unable to accept Kirk's love, and at the last refused his good intentions by resigning before accepting his new promotional rank and command of ENTERPRISE. They had argued bitterly, and Spock had taken his leave before Kirk could make amends.

Kirk had married Lori a month later, thinking he had found what he needed. But he was unable to give what Lori needed, for though he denied it, too much of himself was still tied to Spock. Lori had left him, exhausted with contending with her unseen rival.

Having eased the leg cramp, Kirk slid off of the recliner, and padded off to the bathroom, his morning erection bobbing before him with each step. After relieving his bladder, Kirk reached into the medicine cabinet (he had wisely elected to keep the cabinet open, therefore bypassing the critical opinion of the mirror), and withdrew a popular hangover remedy. The home-use air hypo made a small 'snap, hiss' noise as he injected the medication directly into his neck, near the jugular vein.

Climbing into the shower, he set the water controls for lukewarm, selecting a neutral fragrance cleanser to scrub his body with. For some time, he stood with his back to the shower nozzle, using the force of the spray striking his neck and upper shoulders to massage the tight muscles.

The sensual quality of the water; covering him, clinging to him, being absorbed by his skin pores, invoked a sharp memory of the first water shower he had after being aboard his first duty ship for almost a full solar year. The patrol quadrant lacked water rich planets, and the crew tolerated the sonic showers for as long as possible. Faced with rapidly declining efficiency and morale statistics, the Captain had wisely requested shore leave for his crew at a Starbase out of their quadrant. Starbase 3 was well regarded for its quality water facilities, and Kirk had spent a good quarter of his back pay before his body was totally quenched.

In response to the memory, he felt the stirrings of an erection, and glancing down, saw that he was growing hard, the angle of erection slight. Kirk debated masturbating, it having been over three weeks since he had slept with Lori, his body craving a satisfying orgasm. Which he wouldn't obtain by masturbating, the solitary act was too lonely for him, especially in his current frame of mind.

But Lori was gone, and while Kirk wasn't prepared to invest energy in starting a new relationship, the prospect of a one-night stand was inviting. He weighed the pros and cons as he finished cleansing his body. Soon he began to whistle, his peculiar one note (out of key) rendition of a melody only he recognized and realized he had made his decision. Yes, a little night cruising, to help celebrate his recent, unexpected divorce would be beneficial. At least he wouldn't be drinking alone.


	4. Chapter 4

The North Beach area of San Francisco had for centuries been known as the source for wild and extravagant entertainment in that City by the Bay. It was presently living up to its reputation, with a bizarre diversity of nightclubs, cabarets and restaurants that catered to a wide range of Human and Alien (the Federation currently recognized 157 varieties) hedonistic pursuits.

Kirk had last been to North Beach ten years ago, celebrating his promotion to Lieutenant Commander with those friends that weren't off planet; Gary Mitchell, who had recommended North Beach, and MAXWELL'S in particular, Ruth Morgenthau, Jose Dominquez, Pete Donovan, Bob Wesley and Frank Kawasaki. Later, Areel Shaw, whom Kirk had been trying to seduce (unsuccessfully at that point) had joined the party, and Kirk had thought Ruth and/or Areel would make a scene. They ended up leaving together when the party broke up, which had sent a bemused Kirk home alone to rethink his battle techniques in the war of the sexes.

Ten years later, MAXWELL'S was still in business, although it was apparent that there had been a change in management in the intervening years. Kirk certainly didn't remember the restaurant/bar establishment having entertained them with live sex shows (other than that of Areel and Ruth seducing each other), however, the marquee in front was promising not only the live sex exhibitions, but as an added attraction each night, the services of a 'REAL! LIVE! GREEN ORION ANIMAL WOMAN!!!' would be auctioned off to the highest bidder for one solar hour.

For the average civilian, the mere display of one of the 'REAL! LIVE! GREEN ORION ANIMAL WOMAN!!!' would have been adequate attraction. But Kirk was not an average civilian, he was a Star Fleet Officer, a Flag Rank Command Officer. He knew how expensive they were to import, particularly with their status as non-sentient creatures being reevaluated by the Galactic Sentient Rights Commission, prohibitively expensive to expect re-compensation by employing one in a limited money-making proposition as described on the marquee.

Kirk was also aware that the sexual proclivity of the creatures had, over time, been greatly exaggerated by the inter-stellar merchants to enhance the desirability of their product. He was interested in seeing who or what would be produced at auction time. There were quite a number of verdant hued Aliens that could be passed off as an Orion Animal Woman, or a Human or another Alien race utilizing skillfully applied makeup could be used.

Besides, Kirk in all his twenty-five years in space, since his first off planet vacation as a youth, had never seen a 'REAL! LIVE! GREEN ORION ANIMAL WOMAN!!!', except for that brief glimpse of the holograph on ENTERPRISE'S viewing screen, and curiosity was scratching so hard it deserved to be itched.

The interior of Maxwell's was a pleasant surprise. Much of the remembered decor was still in place, the hardwood paneling and floors, the light pastel fixtures and paint, the suppressed lighting and subdued music. The establishment was at maximum occupancy, but the patrons appeared to be all well behaved and quietly appreciative of their entertainment.

There were three stages; the main stage was a large oval depression in the center of Maxwell's, it was presently dark and curtained off by an opaque security shield. There were two smaller side stages at each end of the massive hand-carved oak bar at the aft of the restaurant that were illuminated and occupied.

Kirk took a seat at a small table near the center of the room, close to the main stage, but with ample view of the side stages. Studying the menu on the SerVo, he ordered a turkey-cranberry-avocado sandwich and dark Argellian beer (the special red draft), grimacing as he coded in his payment from his credit account (five credits! - space lane robbery!), and then sat comfortably back in his chair to peruse the action.

The starboard stage was dimly lit by a peach hued spotlight. Its two occupants were nude males, Human Caucasians by appearance, their skin glistening from their exertion. They were performing the last movement from Silva's ballet 'BLOOD BROTHERS', the Martian classic that Kirk had seen presented on numerous planets.

The two warriors, antagonists that had befriended each other and became lovers, who were betrayed and driven apart, and finally reunited for a duel to the death in the name of honor; were at the last moment delivered from their predicament by the Grace of God; She staying their hands with their weapons at each other's throats and revealed to them the Truth.

The finale was the completion of their union, as the Electric Paladin penetrated the kneeling Shadow Warrior, each warrior climaxing, their geysery ejaculations the source of life to a new world where they could live and love peacefully.

The interpretation that these two dancers performed was the most erotic achievement Kirk had witnessed. The virile, lusty auburn-haired male portraying the Electric Paladin radiated energy, potency and power from his exuberantly robust, brawny body. His antithesis, the companion Shadow Warrior, was a taller, leaner dark-haired male, a composed, self-possessed receptor, his sinewy body cool with concentrated vitality.

Together on the stage they performed feats of physical and sexual prowess Kirk had not believed possible. The Electric Paladin had maintained his impressive erection throughout the entire performance, at one point in the culminating wrestling sequence, Kirk could have sworn he observed the Shadow Warrior use the Electric Paladin's rigid member for a leverage hold as he vaulted over his opponent.

The stage darkened with the activation of an opaque security shield, the audience reacted with restrained appreciative applause, a response Kirk hadn't expected. Turning his head, Kirk caught a glimpse of the performance finale on the port stage, he had been so caught up in the performance of 'BLOOD BROTHERS' he had forgotten to check earlier. The three performers, two males and a female, were locked in passionate intercourse as that stage also darkened.

The effects of the alcohol and the entertainment had registered positively with Kirk, he had on a gentle buzz and a burgeoning erection that was straining against the fabric of his blue civilian pants. Nonchalantly, he reached inside his pants and made room for himself.

"Good evening, did you enjoy our performance?" asked a vivacious voice in Kirk's left ear.

Kirk jumped in his chair, as he tugged his hand from his pants. Turning to the left, he saw standing over him a male wearing a gold fabric robe, the dancer who had been the Electric Paladin on the starboard stage.

"Ah…yes, I did. I've seen the 'BLOOD BROTHERS' performed several times, but never with so much…so much…" Kirk waved his hands about his head, trying to think of a descriptive word for what he had seen.

"How about enthusiasm? Or vigor?" prompted the dancer, his blue eyes intent on Kirk's face.

"No…no, the word I was searching for was affection… and love," replied Kirk, meeting the dancer's gaze, feeling his erection throb.

The dancer smiled. "Then not only did you enjoy, you also comprehended," he said, extending his right hand. "My name is Eric; may I join you for a drink?"

Kirk raised his hand, clasping Eric's and returned the brilliant smile. "Yes, please do. My name is Jim."

"Thank you, I'll have whatever you're drinking," Eric said as he seated himself on Kirk's table. They were both quiet while Kirk ordered two more Argellian beers from the SerVo.

"I haven't seen you in here before, Jim," Eric commented while sipping on his beer, leaning back in his chair.

"Well, I was here about ten years ago. I… I've been off planet pretty much since. This was my first opportunity to return. And this place certainly has changed!" laughed Kirk, nodding to the starboard stage.

Eric smiled in return. "Did you see any of the other performance?"

"Just the last few seconds, I was too absorbed in yours," answered Kirk. Glancing about him, Kirk noticed that the other dancer, the Shadow Warrior in a matching gold robe, was sitting with another lone patron a few tables over. They too, appeared to be having an animated conversation.

"A shame, they perform an excellent variation of 'PERSONALIZED SERVICES',” remarked Eric, thrusting his legs out in from of him, his right knee brushing up against Kirk's.

"Johnson's 'PERSONALIZED SERVICES’? What is this place, an asylum for an out of work ballet troupe?" queried Kirk, chuckling, aware of the knee being pressed against his, and trying to decide what to do about it.

"Yes, in a way, you could say so. We were a semiofficial culture exchange dance ensemble from the Babel Colonies, and when the civil war started five months ago, we were stranded here," responded the dancer, his right forefinger circling the edge of his glass, as he stared into the liquid contents. Looking up, he caught a facial reaction from Kirk he didn't quite understand (guilt?), and then grinned. "So, we pooled our resources and invested in this business. And with the help of my pet, we've been making a handsome profit."

''Your… 'pet'?" sputtered Kirk, moving his knee away from Eric's. There was a definite magnetism the man exuded, but Kirk needed to be the seducer tonight, not seduced by the Electric Paladin.

"Why, yes of course. You must have seen the marquee, the Orion?"

"That is why I came inside. I wanted to see for myself…" Kirk halted, not wanting to insult Eric by hinting his 'pet' was possibly a deception.

"If the Orion was real?" finished Eric. At Kirk's embarrassed shrug of acknowledgment, he chuckled, then leaned forward. "No, Jim, no counterfeit, no impostor. My father gave her to me when I reached majority, and she's served me well ever since. And others. You'll see in about ten minutes when the auction starts. I rarely receive winning bids lower than 10,000 credits."

Kirk whistled under his breath. 10,000 credits were an exorbitant amount, one third though of the import fees alone. About twice that of his monthly Admiral's pay. "The Orion is that special?" he inquired softly.

"To fulfill every fantasy, you've had about sex? A creature that gives infinite pleasure? Yes, she's worth every credit!" exclaimed Eric proudly. Reaching out, he placed his right hand on Kirk's left forearm. "Stay, watch the auction, maybe you'll be lucky enough to place the winning bid. And," continued Eric, brushing the palm of his square hand up Kirk's forearm, raising goosebumps on Kirk's flesh, "if you don't, perhaps other arrangements can be made."

Kirk felt his erection stir again, the warmth of Eric's hand registering with his aroused libido. It had been over a year since he had been fucked, however his relationship had turned out with Lori, it wasn't because he had been unfaithful. What would it be like to be dominated by this man, to be pierced by the Electric Paladin's lightning bolt?

"Perhaps," Kirk said, as Eric withdrew his hand, smiling.

"Well, then, Admiral Kirk, enjoy! I have to go backstage now, I'll look for you later?" he inquired tentatively, as he stood up from the table. Across the room, several young men and women rose from tables, all wearing the same gold robes and offering promising smiles.

Kirk nodded, sipping from his beer, and watched the dancer walk away. Suddenly, the use of his rank and surname, which he hadn't given, being used by Eric registered with him. Kirk chuckled, realizing that someone in Eric's troupe had a fair computer rating, having just tapped into his coded account, learning his name and credit balance. That explained a great deal in the conversation he had just had. Finishing off his beer, Kirk wondered what he had just set himself up for.

The house lighting flickered twice, then slowly dimmed. The unobtrusive music faded out, as the SerVo delicately chimed twice, announcing an incoming message on the miniature vid-screen. Kirk turned the screen towards him, and read the message title caption, 'Rules for Orion Auction', and the following sub-caption, 'Facts and Tips in the Care of an Orion Green Animal Woman'.

The auction rules appeared to be fairly standard. All bids were to be in Federation standard credits, the bids would open at 500 credits, the winning bidder would be declared after the third no challenge to his or her last bid. The winner, due to time constraints, would be allowed to his or her services only immediately after the bidding and on the premises, in a reserved, private room. The type of services rendered were dependent only upon the imagination of the winning bidder.

Under the section of 'Facts and Tips', Kirk briefly skimmed the items relating to feeding and grooming of the Orion, and carefully read the items listed under breeding and handling.

"THE ORION ANIMAL BITCH IS USABLE FOR MATING AT ALL TIMES, THE ANIMAL BEING EXTREMELY RECEPTIVE. HOWEVER, DURING THE ESTRUS CYCLE, THE BITCH HAS BEEN KNOWN TO BECOME THE AGGRESSOR DURING THE MATING ACT. THE BITCH'S ESTRUS CYCLE CONTINUES UNTIL THE ANIMAL HAS BEEN BRED. WITH THE PROPER CARE TO PREVENT BREEDING AND MAINTAINING THE HEALTH OF THE ANIMAL, THE ESTRUS CYCLE CAN BE EXTENDED TO SIX MONTHS, NORMAL DURATION, WITH ONE REPORTED CASE OF FOURTEEN MONTHS AS THE MAXIMUM. THE INTELLIGENCE OF THE ANIMAL IS LOW, BEING LOWER THAN THAT OF THE DOG (LOCAL EARTH REFERENCE), BUT CAN BE TRAINED TO OBEY SIMPLE COMMANDS, I.E. NO, SIT, STOP, WALK."

The information ran through twice, Kirk reread all the items under 'Facts and Tips' then ordered another beer from the SerVo. When he had walked into Maxwell's, he had been sure the Orion was a gimmick, a lure to entice the passing consumers into coming inside. After Eric's hurried attempted seducement, he had changed his opinion to scam. The data he had just read left questions about either analysis. He decided the best way to find out if the Orion was real, was to stay and observe the auction.


	5. Chapter 5

The flickering of the now dimmed house lights signaled the start of the auction. The opaque security shield gradually became transparent, revealing a figure kneeling on the stage floor in the obeisant kowtow. The buttocks were pressed tight against the soles of the feet, both hands, palms down to the stage, were placed beside the head, the forehead was also touching the floor. The face of the kneeling figure was hidden by a mass of thick black hair, that flowed across the floor in front of the head.

A single, small spotlight struck the figure as the music began, discordant notes of an Orion Low-Caste celebration medley. The upper torso of the figure began to sway with the tempo of the music, slowly rising from the floor, the ebony hair shimmering from the body movements. As the figure reached its feet, the head was thrown back, whipping the hair around to settle down the back, and the countenance was revealed for the first time.

Kirk had expected the Orion to look like an animal that appeared to resemble a humanoid, not the near perfect features of a human female that were now displayed before him. The forehead, eyes, nose, mouth, jaw and ears all matched current human physical development. The Orion Vina had portrayed to Chris Pike looked human, he had thought all these years, because it was really Vina, not an Orion. The thought that they possibly really did look human, as all the old space dog stories said they did, was disturbing.

The rhythm of the music had increased, and the Orion began to move its feet to the music in a stylized pattern. The female had been clad in a pale yellow, semi-transparent teddy, the breasts swelling over the lace insert, nipples straining against the fabric. The dark green skin seemed to be polished, the light of the spotlight reflected off of it. The Orion ran her left hand across her breasts, and then pushing up the left breast, lifted it free of the insert. Raising her hand, she slowly wet each finger by licking it with her tongue, then returned the hand to the exposed breast, tweaking the nipple.

Kirk took a healthy swallow of his beer and watched as the Orion began to dance around the perimeter of the stage, thrusting her hips. She had freed the other breast now, and the material had fallen to gather around the generous hips. Hips, hair, feet and breasts all vibrated to the beat of the music.

The Orion circuited the stage twice, to give every patron a chance to see her, and had returned to the center of the stage. The music abruptly stopped, and she stood swaying, as if listening to an inner tune. Then suddenly Kirk understood the position of the left hand interposed between the thighs, the Orion was masturbating!

To prove his insight, she withdrew her hand, glistening with a fluid, and as she smeared it across her breasts and face, he realized it was blood, dark green blood.

'Estrus cycle' the data had read.

With the crashing of cymbals and pounding from drums, the music restarted, and a male suddenly appeared on the stage. Nude, his erection encased in an ivory-white condom, pressed tight to his stomach. Kirk recognized him as the dancer who had earlier portrayed the Shadow Warrior.

The male approached the female from behind, grasping her across the back of the neck and shoulders, and pushed her forward to the floor. With his other hand, he ripped from her hips the clinging teddy fabric, and then forced her thighs apart. Covering her body with his, he entered her with one powerful lunge of his hips.

Kirk and the audience around all murmured in surprise, as they watched the forced mating. The female attempted to raise up from the floor, but the male only pressed her neck and head tighter to the floor. She flailed about with her arms, hands closed into tight fists, but the male continued pumping into her, not once disturbed by her actions.

Removing his hand from the side of her hips, he reached in front, and forced his hand between her thighs. Pressing the palm against the pubis, he manipulated the clitoris. Immediately the female stopped her struggles to escape the male and began to grind her hips against his. Pushing the hand on her vulva aside, she replaced it with one of her own, and used the other hand, pushing against the floor, to help force herself further onto the male's penis.

They remained locked in the violent intercourse for several minutes, no words issued from either male or female, only the labored breathing reached the ears of the intent audience.

The female lifted her head, a low growl issuing from her throat. In response, the male began to slap her buttocks with loud, stinging blows, leaving the impression of his hand on her skin. He increased the rhythm of the thrusts into her body, and then moved his hand from her buttocks, plunging his thumb into her anus, deep inside the tender canal. The Orion, as she climaxed, screamed.

Immediately the male pulled out of her vagina, and standing, moved back a few paces. Incredibly, he had maintained his erection, the white condom sheath now streaked with the green of her estrus blood. He stood, trembling thighs parted, feet braced apart, and clasped his hands behind his back.

The Orion scrambled up off of the stage floor, turning, she walked swiftly to kneel in front of the male, and swallowed his erection. The male's body rocked with the force of her powerful suction on his penis. As the male orgasmed, he wound his hands amongst the Orion's hair, and pumped his ejaculate free of himself.

Eric strode onto the stage, still wearing the gold robe, as the house lights were brightened, and the music died down. Raising his hand, he pointed towards the Orion, who still knelt beside the legs of the other male and asked for the first bid.


	6. Chapter 6

The view from the lone window in the sorry bedroom was of a back alley, that came in vertical strips, courtesy of the civilian version of Starfleet's low-powered force field. As alleys went, it was cleaner than most the observer had seen in his travels, but all rational thought stopped at that perception. The observer was looking for answers that were not held within the view available or had been in any other view during the last several months.

The alley was a wash of flickering, swirling colors, all emanating from the various marquees surrounding it. The observer was reminded of a time he was faced with another obsession of his, not so long ago in the past, that was visited upon him in the same hypnotic, fluid technicolors. An obsession that almost killed him, and certainly had killed several crew members under his command.

Obsessed…Damn straight, and now look at the situation I've gotten myself into! thought the observer, massaging the back of his stiff neck with his right hand. At least with any luck this won't be a lethal encounter!

At the sound of the force field being deactivated on the single door, the observer whirled around to face an uncertain future unfolding more rapidly than he could have ever imagined occurring before.

Eric entered through the door, a wry grin on his face, that did not quite match the brooding look of his blue eyes. "So, friend Jim, you were the lucky winner tonight. My pet will be in shortly. I just wanted to be sure you understood the arrangements for the next hour?"

Kirk met Eric's gaze straight on, squaring his shoulders back. ''Yes, perfectly," Kirk managed to reply with a sober face, trying to think of a way to get out of this with some of his self-respect intact.

Eric swiftly moved further into the room to Kirk's side, standing so close Kirk could feel the other male's body heat radiating from the thin gold robe. Even more swiftly, Eric kissed Kirk lightly on the mouth, and then turned, moving back across the room, exiting through the door.

Kirk smiled, amused, running his fingers over his lips. This evening just was not going as he had originally planned!

Eric ushered the Orion into the room, issuing a terse order to "STAY'', and closed the door firmly, the click of the door force field was heard as it was reactivated. The Orion had been cleansed, and was wearing again only a teddy, this time in a lavender color.

Kirk felt his own body heat rise as the pheromones the Orion exuded began to take effect on his libido. He remained standing where Eric had left him, watching the Orion as she watched him, appraising him with dark black eyes. The erection that had throbbed earlier while watching her perform before the auction had returned with a vengeance, and the pulse of the pounding blood in his groin started to match the pounding of the headache he felt coming on.

For several minutes, both stood in their respective areas of safe space, Kirk knowing he was taking the time to sort out his thoughts, but as he watched the Orion just stand there, he began suddenly to wonder what she was thinking at this time. _And why doesn't she have a name_? thought Kirk suddenly, anger now competing with his emotion of lust.

Very carefully, Kirk approached the Orion, placing his hands on her shoulders, and looked into the frank gaze from her ebony eyes. He brushed his right hand along her shoulder, feeling the satin texture of the short fur. Then he leaned in close, and even more carefully, kissed the Orion on forehead, cheek, and mouth. He moved his right hand down to cup her breast, and felt along with the lush expanse of material, flesh, crinkled nipple and fur, the trip hammering of a heart beating wildly within. Other than the beating of the heart, Kirk felt no other response from the female.

Kirk stepped back, uncertain, anger again warring with his lust. A gut feeling told him that this was wrong, a fact that his headache seemed to agree with.

"What is your name?" he asked the female, watching her closely for any sign of understanding. The Orion stood as she had stood, no sign of reasoning within the dark eyes. "What is your name!" demanded Kirk, this time with anger, it having won out in a nanosecond the war against lust, all desire rapidly wilting.

When there was no response from the female, Kirk knew that he could not proceed with the activities as planned. However varied Kirk's tastes in lovers ran, he usually preferred them to be on an equal equilibrium, and with the Orion not being able to communicate vocally, the fact that she didn't even have a name, invalidated Kirk's interest.

He looked around the room for a communication device, but the shabby room held only a double wide bed and a dresser, and the only article on the dresser was a long-handled woman's hair brush.

Frustrated, Kirk again approached the Orion slowly. "1'm sorry, but I can't continue with this. Eric, if you can hear me, I'm ready to go now", Kirk said, realizing that to protect his property, Eric certainly must have hidden a monitor in the room, and hoped that Eric would return and release him.

At the mention of Eric's name, the Orion came alive, almost frantic in her movement of motion. She wrapped her legs around Kirk's waist, and arms around his torso, kissing him fiercely, moaning into his mouth, and grinding her pelvis against his groin.

Kirk struggled within her grasp, as he did so, he stumbled back a few steps, and fell against the bed. The Orion quickly unwrapped her legs from his waist, and knelt over him, moving her hands down to his trousers, and rapidly peeled apart the seam in his pants. She rooted about for his penis, and finding it, brought it forth from its hiding place, rolling the flaccid organ between her palms, all the while moaning and rocking her pelvis.

Kirk, shocked, again yelled out "Eric, I want out now!" and rescued his male member from the hands of the female. He deftly tucked his shoulder and rolled underneath the Orion, off of the bed and onto the floor.

The Orion whirled about, her long jet-black hair whipping around her shoulders, and climbed off the bed, reaching out for the source of her need, as it (and the person it was attached to), continued to back away from her, circling each other around the room, as Kirk continued yelling for a quick rescue.

On the third pass by the dresser, the Orion, now getting quite irritable at the long time it was taking to relieve her need, espied the brush laying on top of the dresser surface. With a small yip that sounded like glee, she snatched the brush from the dresser, and sank to the floor, pushing the brush handle into her vagina with her right hand, while her left hand manipulated the swollen clitoris. She arched her back, placing her feet against the floor, and simulated intercourse, the right hand pushing and then pulling the brush handle in her vagina at ever increasing speed.

Kirk, stunned, could only stand and stare at the sight of the female masturbating with the brush handle, his mind reeling from the effects of the Argellian beer, the Orion's pheromones, and then, the dazzling sense of déjà vu inundate his perceptions.

The room tilted slowly to the left, and then quickly tilted back to the right, or so it seemed to Kirk, as he struggled to understand what he was seeing, or what his mind was trying to tell him.

With sudden clarity, the dream, the nightmare, that had visited Kirk each night in his sleep, flashed vividly through Kirk's mind. Afraid of the bonding meld with Spock? How could that possibly be his fear? The few mind melds that Kirk had shared with Spock had always been so…here Kirk faltered, trying to grasp the definitive feeling, emotion, he had always came way after melding with Spock… so blissful. Yes, that was it, a sweet, raptured feeling of completeness.

He had assumed that Spock had left him, because that Spock thought Kirk could not withstand the Vulcan's next pon farr if their love was consummated physically, and, also, as Kirk had assumed, in proper Vulcan fashion, with a bonding meld, the joining of their two intellects. That Kirk would find distasteful a Vulcan seething with emotions, especially unbridled lust during the pon farr, and then, in full control of all emotions, including love, after the pon farr.

Abruptly, his perspective of that assumption changed, and he realized that he was seeing now possibly what Spock had seen, a Human who had no control over his sex drive and was constantly in the state of being in the 'on' mode, with no governing intelligence.

As the Orion appeared not capable of vocal speech towards Kirk, neither was Kirk capable of communicating with Spock during the mind melds that they had shared. As a psi-null, Kirk couldn't 'hear' Spock's inner voice. Spock could not only talk directly to Kirk's mind but leave Kirk's mind in the heightened state of euphoria at the end of the meld.

Had Spock left him, not over the fear of Kirk's response to Spock's next pon farr, but of Spock's response to Kirk's innate Human sexuality while forever joined in the bonding meld? Of being joined to someone who was incapable of telepathy, that Spock could not share mind speech with during his trial of pon farr?

Kirk had been so sure of his intuitive insight of Spock's psyche, that he had never thought to ask Spock, or even discuss the option of the bonding meld. The bonding meld he had thought Spock needed, had wanted…

And, had Kirk secretly known this, but had been too…afraid to confront Spock of his speculations? And the dream, the nightmare, was his subconsciousness mind's way of punishment for failing to confront Spock? Of plain just failing Spock?

The thought staggered Kirk, who managed to walk unevenly to the bed to sit down, just as the click announced the deactivation of the door force field. Eric, and his friend, the Shadow Warrior, burst into the room, both holding civilian issue defense phasers. Eric took in the sight of his pet, still rocking on the floor, and the dazed Kirk, sitting slumped on the bed, and put out a restraining hand to his friend.

Eric motioned for his friend to take the Orion out of the room, and then went over to the bed, trying to decide how to help Kirk. Abruptly, Kirk stood up, acknowledged Eric's with a light touch to the other man's arm, and then strode out of the room. Once outside, Admiral Kirk, James T. Kirk, Spock's 'T'hy'la', wept hot tears of shame, remorse, and most certainly of all, unrelenting sorrow.


	7. Chapter 7

The current session of Galactic Sentient Rights Commission was extended another week, to study the testimony of Admiral James T. Kirk as to the status of the Orion Green Animal Women.

* * * * *

The spaceship/world Yonada had arrived at her new home, a neighboring planet of Daran V, and its inhabitants had been transported to the surface, to begin the re-birth of a new Fabrini civilization.

Dr. Leonard McCoy, his Fabrini grant in hand, had arrived in time to help deliver the first child of Natira and her consort. Once the Instrument of Obedience from the Oracle of the People that had been implanted into the neural paths of McCoy and Natira had been removed, they were legally divorced. Natira, free of the guidance of the Oracle of the People for the first time in her life, had found another who was most pleasing among her own people.

McCoy, with several of his assistants, gratefully took possession of the Fabrini medical texts from the central computer of Yonada and started the long procedure of translation and adaption to the various Federation medical systems.

* * * * *

At Gol, the novice known as Spock, arose from his sleeping mat, and proceeded with his morning ablutions. Drying his face against the rough towel, his mind was simultaneously considering: 1) the events planned for the day ahead, which included the ritual of his acceptance to Gol, 2) the last letter he was formulating for his parents, 3) the translation he had been working for some months of the newly discovered surviving paragraph from one of Surak's edicts, 4) the sudden sensation of another consciousness trying to contact his, and from a great distance, and 5) the dream that he had during the night, the same dream he always had, that contained Kirk, and the endless permutations that their lives could have been if either one of them had been strong enough to declare…

* * * * *

Along the neutral zone of Federation and Klingon space, sensor drones from deep space outpost Epsilon Nine, were picking up Klingon transmissions in Quad L14. Three K't'inga heavy cruisers, among them the Imperial Cruiser Amar, were observed moving into battle formation against a vast, mysterious, luminescent cloud.

* * * * *

In Alexandria, Egypt, Earth, Sol Sector, Admiral James T. Kirk ran to a Federation communications console as the echoes of the transmission the senceiver implanted in his brain still resounded within. "The Klingons weren't destroyed. It feels like…like they've become 'wall exhibits in Hell'. And it's headed for Earth. Spock, I wish you were here to help me understand."

* * * * *

In orbital dry dock above Earth, Enterprise waited patiently. They had left her, Kirk, Spock, and McCoy, but she knew it was only temporarily. As all sentient constructs knew (although, the humans aboard her were only vaguely aware that she was alive) their entire future, from the moment they became sentient when they were given the power of a Name, until the time of their death, she knew they would be returning to her. They would be home again.


End file.
